“It is against our rules.”
Jerry felt that he was dismissed, and stumbled out of the bank, forgetting, in his thoughts about Paul, the business of his own which had brought him there.
But there was other business for Jerry to attend to that morning. We are about to let the reader into a secret, which he had hitherto kept from Paul.
Not far away was a small tenement house which Jerry hired and sublet to tenants. Every month he called to collect his rents, and the difference between the rent he paid for the whole building, and the rents he collected from the tenants, gave him a handsome profit.
It was not rent day, but there were two of the tenants in arrears. One was a laborer, temporarily out of work, and the other was a poor widow who went out scrubbing, but was now taken down with rheumatism, and therefore not able to work.
The old man ascended with painful toil to the third floor, and called on the widow first.
She turned pale when she saw him enter, for she knew his errand, and how little chance there was of softening him.
“I hope you have got the rent for me this morning, Mrs. O’Connor,” said Jerry, harshly.
“And where would I get it, Mr. Barclay?” she asked. “It’s very little work I can do on account of the sharp pains I have.”
“That’s none of my business,” said Jerry, in a harsh tone. “You will have to go, then.”